


The Last Kiss

by deisegal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Oral Sex, Shamelessly shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deisegal/pseuds/deisegal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the Wall. Brief reference to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/767671">Her Surrender</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Kiss

Stannis had spent yet another night in her bed. This time, he’d stayed completely clothed, and had lain with his back to her. He had allowed her to put her arm around him as he fell asleep. She’d pulled away from him during the night to go sit by the flames as she didn’t need the sleep. This time she just watched them flicker and dance, not trying to seek out any vision. She’d been quite drained by her latest efforts to make sense of what she was seeing and she wanted to save some energy for Stannis, as these were his last few days at the Wall. He seemed particularly troubled of late. She started at the sound of him thrashing in the bed and went quickly back to press herself up against him. She tried to grab his arm but he batted her away in his distress and ended up hitting her across the face. He sat up immediately and turned to her with a stricken look on his face, reaching out to touch her before pulling his hand back.

“Melisandre..I have hurt you.”

“It is nothing my King,” she smiled at him reassuringly. Her cheek stung but it would pass momentarily.

“Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. Another bad dream?”

“The same as always.” He eyed her reddened cheek warily then lay back down, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. She took the opportunity to lie down beside him, her head curled on his chest. She could feel him flinch but he didn’t push her away, though he kept his arms pinned tightly at his side. They spent more time in silence than in conversation it seemed.

Melisandre traced idle patterns on his chest with her finger and still he made no movement. She ran her hand inside his half open shirt and she noted his fists clenching tighter into the sheets. She sat up and pushed away the furs. Then she leaned across him and opening his shirt further, she kissed down his chest and stomach, gently stroking one of his protruding hipbones. It was pointless telling him he should eat more in preparation for his journey South. If anything, he would probably eat less. She went to pull at the laces of his breeches but at this point he saw fit to stop her, reaching down and grabbing at her other wrist.

“Enough, Melisandre.”

She tilted her head and smiled at him, “Why, my King?”

“What we have done of late is more than enough. We have sinned…I have sinned.”

She let her other hand rest on his groin, “This Westerosi idea of sin amuses me”. She could feel his hardness through the rough fabric and began to stroke his length with her palm, “the idea that you must feel so much shame and regret for something that is _so_ natural, _so_ pleasant, _so_ rewarding.” She stroked him harder with each emphasised word. She deftly unlaced him with one hand and released his straining cock. He groaned and went to push her away but she squeezed him at his base, making him groan even more.

“This is no sin my King”. Before he could argue she dipped and kissed the tip of his cock and his hips almost lifted off the bed.

“No!”

“Just this one time. This last time. A last…kiss”

“It is degrading, and crude and vulgar,” he struggled to get the words out as she kissed the tip again, “I will not have you do that, I will not have you lower yourself…”

“Was it degrading when _you_ kissed _me_ down there?”

He gawped at her, “I told you we should never speak of that again”.

She laughed softly. It had been a shock to her that Stannis would even consider doing such a thing for her, but he had done it and she was sure he was tortured by that fact. And he could not undo it. 

“And we shall not. Once you have allowed me to do likewise for you.” She stared at him, daring him to argue back but the fight seemed to be gone out of him and he released his grip on her wrist. To any outsider, Stannis Baratheon, First of His Name, was just a grim-faced warrior, lacking in basic human emotions. Melisandre knew him better. She could now read him like she read her flames, though in its own way that could be just as draining. She knew he was constantly at war with himself, always questioning why anyone would show him loyalty, love or affection.

“No.”

But it was more of a faint whisper now. She hooked her hair over one shoulder and leaned down again, taking him as far as she could into her mouth. His hips were undulating so she pressed her free hand onto his side to keep him in place. His breathing was almost frantic as she worked her way slowly and carefully up his shaft, twisting her hand as she went. She had to play a delicate balancing act; she wanted to draw out his pleasure, but not his shame. She licked and kissed his tip before swallowing him again, flicking her tongue in pulses as she moved back up again. She then swirled her tongue around the top and took a moment to glance up at him. His eyes were screwed tightly shut. She marveled at how he was remaining soundless the whole time. But she could see from the set of his jaw that he was clenching his teeth tight in an attempt to keep some of his composure. She let her hand drop from his hipbone to squeeze one of his hands, to stop him clenching that so tightly into the sheets. She managed to get him to open his hand and he allowed her to lace her fingers through his.

That tender touch was all it took for him to release and she almost had to scramble to take his seed in her mouth without spilling it. The last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel even more uncomfortable and ashamed after his moment of abandon. She cleaned him off as best she could and then covered him up, leaving his laces open. She pulled herself up to lie beside him, dragging the furs with her as she went. His face in profile was a harsh yet beautiful thing, all sharp angles and lines, set off with a heavy coating of bristly stubble. He was staring straight ahead but the rise and fall of his chest betrayed that he was struggling to compose himself. She waited for a few moments before reaching up to stroke his rough cheek with her thumb. 

“You see, my King. It is natural. Really we are all no more than flesh and blood.”

Suddenly he became lucid and he turned to face her, dark blue eyes narrowed and boring into her.

“Are we? _All_ of us?”

She had no straightforward answer for him at that moment so she pulled herself closer to his face and kissed him softly on the lips. He was still staring at her when she pulled back, expecting an answer, but also looking like he feared what that answer might be.

“One day my King, one day you will understand everything.”

She could tell he wasn’t happy with the answer but something was stopping him from questioning her further. They lay side by side for a moment longer without touching, neither wanting to move. Life at the Wall was harsh and the future was uncertain for everyone. Melisandre knew her duty was to serve. But as always, she found she took as much comfort from his presence as he did from hers.


End file.
